The Border

We made it on the bus out of Panguipulli only through the Herculean effort of the baggage handler.  He managed to get both the tandem and my bike in the last row of the bus and then moved people around so that the row in front of the bikes was open for us to sit in.  The bumpy ride also seemed to be a common commute for a lot of local workers, everyone from farm hands to guys in hard hats.

We arrived in Puerto Fuy, on the Chilean side of the border during a brief break in the rain.  It gave us a chance to see an amazing rainbow over the lake that the border bisects.  I was too tired and disorganized to try and photograph it, although I got some shots of the area as we left by ferry in the morning.

Edwardo Cooper was on our boat ride across the lake to the Argentine side of the border.  He owns the southern shoreline.  Similar to Tompkins, he is one of the largest private owners of land in Chile.  However, he is more interested in developing the land into a tourist town and selling 100 meters of lakefront property for US $150,000.  not a bad deal for some truly beautiful land, although you'll never know how it will end up looking in a couple years.  Perhaps Tomkins can buy all of Cooper's land and convert it into a national reserve as well.

The on-going "Seattle Language School" continues a word at a time, a phrase every day.  I find that "bueno" and a smile will get me just about everywhere!  Except at the supermarket check-out where, in hindsight, I think they were asking if I had any empty bottles to recycle.  The next phrase for the day, I suppose.

Today was a longer day, though not as bad as the ride into Panguipulli and we finally crossed between Chile and Argentina.  Two stops on each side plus a curious no-man's-land between the exit of one country and the entrance of the other made the going slow.  Each stop requires a check of our passports, some questions about where we've been and where we're going and the filling out of forms by hand.  I imagine it'll be several years before computers and internet connections make it out this far.

Once beyond the pass, the road rolls along sloping ever more downhill, still rough and unpaved, starts heading down out of the Andes.  The last few kilometers are an exhilarating ride out of the mountains.  The front rack on the tandem shears a bolt and we rearrange their gear on the top of my back rack and theirs.  Fortunately, we're at the steepest drop so the extra weight isn't a factor.  We roll into San Martín de los Andes and head straight for the bike shop.

Amy has hurt her Achilles tendon during the ride two days ago.  It's not improving and she is uncertain she can make the ride down to Bariloche -- a famous stretch of road called the Seven Lakes road that Chip was looking forward to riding.  I'm hoping that doesn't cause any rifts between them.  We take an extra rest day and resign ourselves to another bus trip.

Time to get out of this hostel and find a park for lunch (and a nap).